


A Song of Ice and Fire

by Polkat (aralias)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: April Showers 2015, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-30
Updated: 2003-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 19:15:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3661812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/pseuds/Polkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is 1997. Draco Malfoy has been made Head Boy and is forced to deal with the prospect of people empathising with him at last; Ginny Weasley is still living in her brothers' shadow. The paths of Ice and Fire cross; a song begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Song of Ice and Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Uploading old fic for April Showers 2015. All spelling/grammar errors left as originally posted.

The boy awoke to the familiar darkness. It was nearing spring but the sun was still unable to penetrate the thick velvet curtains of emerald that hung around his bed. It would be time to get up soon, the boy thought dismally. He had no idea what the time was but he always rose at the same hour and so any moment now the morning promised the sound of Goyle lumbering out of his bed towards the bathroom, only to discover with surprise, as he did every morning that Endean had beaten him to it. The boy closed his eyes again as his…friend?

…As Goyle hammered on the door.

The door creaked open. "Alright… alright, I'm done." It slammed shut again.

Crabbe was still snoring loudly on his left and the boy heard Matthew Endean shout "wake up!" as he passed and then mutter "you great stupid landmass" as he continued on towards the beds of his friends. There had never been any bonding between the Slytherin boys… or rather there had, but they had bonded into two separate groups. Endean, Bowman and Long; Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Is his highness up yet?" he heard Endean whisper.

"He's awake," Charles replied, more loudly.

"How do you know?"

"He's always awake…seven years in his dormitory and you didn't know that?"

The others: the ones with fathers who weren't Death Eaters. The ones who would not become Death Eaters as their eighteenth birthdays dawned.

He contemplated lying there for a while longer, listening to them speak about him.

"I'm awake."

He extended one pale hand and parted the curtains so a crack of sunlight about five centimetres across splashed across his face and down his arm. He could see them sprawling within the rectangle of his vision. "What time is it?"

She could see Ron out of the corner of her eye, straining to get away from Harry; somewhere nearby Hermione was hissing  _"Ron stop it… you're a prefect!"_  as if it might make a difference.

Ginny smiled slightly. "Ron… it's ok… I can handle this."

Her brother sagged in his friend's grasp. "But he-"

"I know; I was here too."

She turned back away from him. The Slytherin boy was rapidly regaining his superior expression now it looked less likely he would be pulverised by Ron, "missing me already Weasley?"

"Alex, we broke up ten minutes ago; is it really necessary to start using my surname already?"

"Well I figured it was time to drop the charade," he retorted. "Once you found out it was a dare there wasn't very much point in continuing our… _relationship_."

The corridor towards the Great Hall was jammed with people, she supposed he'd wanted to make it a public display or rather a public humiliation and hadn't counted on her brother walking past at that moment, all craning to have a look at her face or Alex's. Ginny pushed back the rising anger that threatened to spill out over her eyes, managed a cool "good bye Alex," turned and walked calmly through the throngs of students.

"Too bad, Maguire," one of the Slytherin's laughed. "It was working perfectly until you forgot the Weasleys don't have hearts."

She ignored them.

"Oh I don't know," Alex replied cheerfully. "They certainly seem to love each other. Do you think Virginia will take after her parents and marry one of her brothers? Or do you think she'll settle with one of her cousins now they've made that illegal?"

Harry released his friend willingly and two cries merged into one. Hermione's shout of  _"Expelliarmus!"_  aimed at Ron and Ginny's furious hex. Both hit their intended targets and quivering with anger Ginny stalked back towards her ex-boyfriend. "Never. Insult. My. Family. Again. Understand? Every one of them is worth twenty of you…"

There was a disturbance somewhere out side the ring and a voice called: "Stand aside. I'm the Head Boy… what's going on here?"

An immaculately dressed Slytherin boy emerged from the crowd, glanced quickly at Ron sprawled across the floor and Alex who was still being attacked by flying green blobs. His cool eyes flickered onto Ginny. "Well, well, well…" he murmured. "What  _has_  been going on here?"

She raised her chin. "Nothing."

Something that might have been a smile tugged at the corner of his thin mouth and was gone. "So I suppose you have a perfectly reasonable explanation for why Mr. Maguire is being bombarded with his own facieses."

"Malfoy, he insulted her family," Hermione intervened, rising from her position next to Ron. "The response was provoked."

He swung to face her. "Ah, Granger… so  _pleased_  to see you keeping the students out of trouble as usual." He turned back to Ginny. "Provoked or not the rules of Hogwarts are very clear on this issue: no magic must be used in the school corridors. I'm afraid I will have to take twenty points from Gryffindor."

She bit back a retort. It could be worse, she reminded herself. It could always be worse. "Fine… whatever you feel is best."

"Do not scoff at mere points Weasley," he remarked lightly. "Perhaps a detention would be a better punishment if you do not feel taking points off to be sufficient."

"An excellent idea Mr. Malfoy." A hand touched his shoulder and to his credit the boy did not jump. Professor Snape stood behind him, glowering at the sea of children who were, even now, slinking away to breakfast or their dormitories. "Miss Weasley," Snape continued silkily. "As I'm sure our Head Boy has pointed out to you, using magic against other students is a very serious offence. I expect you in the dungeons at eight o'clock Wednesday evening. Malfoy if you would accompany me I have something I wish to discuss with you."

Malfoy looked back at her, the sneer gone; an odd, half apology lurking in his eyes. "Of course Professor."

As they passed Alex, Malfoy flicked his wand expertly and the offensive stopped.

Fuming Ginny watched him leave, fighting the temptation to yell "No magic in the corridors Mr Malfoy!" at his departing back. There was no one left in the corridor now apart from herself and the Trio. Ron was still lying on the floor apparently too upset that Hermione had disarmed him instead of Alex, to pick himself up.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked softly from behind her, she whirled on him intending to tell him just how far from alright she was but Harry just grinned rather sheepishly and murmured, "No I suppose not."

"Thanks for letting go of Ron," she said quietly.

"You're welcome. I knew you'd want to have a shot at the slimy git and Hermione was sure to go for Ron first."

He grinned apologetically. "I'm really sorry."

She rolled her eyes. "You make it sound like you were the one who dumped me."

"Well, if I'd been more handsome and charming I'd have swept you off your feet long ago and away from Alex Maguire." He waggled his eyebrows and a giggle escaped her. "Yes you're right; it's completely your fault."

"What's Harry's fault?" Ron had finally made it to his feet and was leaning against his best friend's shoulder.

"Everything," Harry replied solemnly. "Your lousy Charms mark last week, that weird stain on the round table in the common room that's been there forever and more recently Malfoy, Maguire and Snape competing for the title of World's Biggest Git."

Ginny's face darkened. "Ah yes, detention with Snape… that sounds fun."

"It's not," Ron assured her dryly. "Last time he made me disembowel a crate of newly pickled salamanders."

"Thank you Ron," she remarked dryly. "I can't tell you how much your comfort in this troubled time means to me.

The rooms the founders had set aside of the Head Boy and Girl to meet in were large and lavishly furnished in neutral creams and browns, the walls full of mainly tasteful photos of the previous Head Boys and Girls. Closing his eyes, Draco lounged back in the large plush armchair that stood by the blazing fire and tried, rather unsuccessfully, to ignore the prefect rotas that were being read at him. Briefly he considered casting a silencing spell but she, unlike certain other people he could mention, would certainly detect that; in fact he was surprised she hadn't already noticed he was almost asleep.

"Malfoy are you listening at all?" Granger snapped. Ah. There it was.

"Believe me, I have been attempting to block out your voice for the last seven years and nothing seems to have worked," he informed her wearily. "It would be a miracle if it began to happen now… Dickenson and Burry are patrolling tonight, along with you and Weasley… Is there any point in me being read these again and again?"

"Dumbledore saw fit to make you Head Boy-" she began.

"Yes and we all know what a terrible mistake that was but I am not going to resign just so you can Weasley can use these rooms as your new love nest."

He opened his eyes a crack and grinned, with a certain satisfaction, as she flushed. "I'm sure Dumbledore had his reasons…"

He sighed and pushed himself up from the chair pacing over to the photos on the wall. "If he did they were probably to do with breaking me away from my father's evil cause." Yes there was his father, smiling thinly, aged eighteen and trying to look as if he wasn't standing next to a small girl with a long black plait and a Ravenclaw tie. Draco scowled, "he needn't have bothered, I'm not a Death Eater." The photographic image of Lucius Malfoy started examining his nails. "No matter who my father was."

"Well, isn't that just what a Death Eater would say?"

Had Granger just made a joke? He looked at her quickly, she was smiling slightly in that insufferable know-it-all way she had but that was hardly anything peculiar. He pulled up his left sleeve, irritably. "I'm not a Death Eater, Granger."

She raised her eyebrows and pulled up her sleeve too. "Neither am I… Can we continue with this meeting or do you intend to sleep through it?"

"Will you insist on reading me things I don't need to know simply to investigate how long I can remain awake?"

"Possibly."

He gazed at her quizzically for a moment, shook his head slightly and turned back to the photos. Harry Potter and a girl with deep red hair waved enthusiastically at him until they were jumped on by a dark boy who seized them both in a large bear hug and grinned at the camera. His gaze flickered back to Lucius Malfoy. No, not Potter, just a man who bore the same striking resemblance to him as Draco did to his own father. He turned away, back towards Granger.

"Well?" he demanded.

"Well what?"

"Where are the long tiring lists of patrols, I  _must_  hear them. Quick, Granger… I'm not quite bored out of my mind at this precise moment."

She rolled her eyes. "I've decided you don't necessarily need to know whose patrolling all the time."

"I don't?" He moved back to his chair again, glaring at a picture of one of the Weasleys that tutted disapprovingly behind his shining glass frame. "How extraordinary," he murmured.

"Now that we've ruled out prefect rotas, is there anything you'd like to particularly discuss?" she asked calmly, ignoring his last comment.

"No, not  _particularly_. I'll discuss anything your heart desires as long as it's  _not_  prefect rotas…" he paused then added quickly "or house elf rights, I heard you talking to Hagrid about that, or how I should be nicer to the students. Anything else will do."

"Actually there was something I particularly wanted to discuss with you." Granger flicked through her wad of notes and Draco tried not to look like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"Astound me."

Her eyebrows narrowed somewhat dangerously and she handed him a piece of paper covered in small precise lettering. "How did you do this?" he asked, mystified in spite of himself.

"Well I went round to all of the teachers and asked them to tell me-"

"No. The letters… this A is exactly the same as these ones… surely even your writing isn't this neat."

She let out a small "oh," reddened slightly then collected herself and sat up straighter. "It's been printed from a computer."

"Muggle thing, yes?"

"Yes." Her eyes were flashing dangerously in a way rather reminiscent of Professor McGonagall. "If you have a problem with that-"

"I don't have a problem with that," he countered quickly. Her lips pursed, making her look even more like their severe transfiguration teacher. He sighed. "Look Granger…" he paused, " _Hermione_ , I'm sorry for calling you a Mudblood… two years ago. I do not have a problem with muggle-borns any more; if I did I would not still be sitting in this room with you." He looked down at the paper and read the words:  _Detention: Since the beginning of this academic year the number of students in detention has increased dramatically-_

He stopped reading. "You want to talk about detention?"

"Well, about the rise in numbers. And do you know why I think so many more people have got detention this year?"

"This year's first years are all horrible snotty nosed children who live only to break the rules?" he hazarded blindly.

Her mouth became thin again. "It's because of you. The numbers haven't been this high since 1974 the year-"

"My father was head boy… how unexpected," he added sarcastically. "Look it's not my fault, whenever I'm trying to discipline someone Snape swoops down from no where and hands them a detention instead. You saw him today with Weasley and Maguire."

Hermione bit her bottom lip thoughtfully. "Perhaps, but you know you still terrify the younger children."

"I should hope so; I've been working on my scowl for seven years."

"Draco, I'm being serious."

"So am I, Granger. What do you want me to do: start handing out sweets?"

"It's all explained on the sheet."

He scanned it quickly with a pretence at interest, reached the final line, paused, read it again and stared at her in astonishment. "You must be joking."

The Gryffindor common room was mostly deserted as Hermione and Ron returned from patrolling the corridors. Harry and Ginny sat either side of a half finished game of chess although neither of them were concentrating on it any more; Ginny appeared to be asleep and Harry was reading one of the, now rather battered, books Remus and Sirius had given him two years ago.

"Who's winning?" Ron asked quietly as he threaded his way through the mismatching chairs towards them.

Harry did not look up. "I am."

"But you're rubbish." Ron moved closer and examined the board, the expression on his face incredulous. "Are you sure?"

Harry grinned, finished his sentence and placed the book down carefully on the chess board. "Yes Ron, I'm sure I'm winning." His face darkened. "But you're right; normally she'd have beaten me in half this time… I don't think she's quite as over Alex Maguire as she claims."

Ron turned to Hermione who replied despairingly; "no, Ron, I should not have let you beat him to a bloody pulp," before he had voiced the question.

Harry stifled a laugh but not very successfully.

"Something funny?" Hermione asked, peevishly.

"You," Harry smiled. "Well, you and Ron. I always enjoy hearing you finish each others sentences."

There was a slight movement from the other side of the chess board and Ginny's voice muttered, "I don't." She pushed herself blearily upright. "It's so unbelievably depressing."

"Welcome back to the world of the living," Harry remarked, picking up his book again.

Ginny scanned the board, moved a piece and yawned. "I think you'll find that's Check and Mate, Mr Potter." She yawned again and rose to her feet, Harry started berating his chess men for not warning him of the attack and Ron sank into the seat his sister had just vacated with a grin that said quite clearly: _"See. I told you so."_

"Night everyone." She paused at the foot of the stairs. "Oh, and Harry; I couldn't give half a disembowelled salamander about Alex Maguire so please, don't worry."

He did not look up as the child entered. "Shut the door behind you." There was a definite bang and Draco's eyes flickered upwards involuntarily to where the small Hufflepuff boy cowered by the door. "Your name is?"

"Julian Hammel."

Draco lowered the piece of parchment in his hand and beckoned the child forward with the one that still held his quill. "And what are you serving detention for, Julian Hammel?"

The child muttered something indiscernible and Draco suppressed a wave of irritation. How did the teachers deal with this? This was the day's fourth detention of eight and already he felt like hurling something at the wall or possibly the head of one of his detainees. "Speak up," he instructed briskly, cringing vaguely at how much he reminded himself of Professor Sprout.

"I was running in the corridors," Hammel murmured. "You took five points from Hufflepuff and then Professor Snape told me I have to clean all the dungeons without magic," he finished miserably.

Merlin's beard, all of the dungeons? There must be at least twenty rooms down here… still the child had broken a rule and in front of Snape. He was obviously an idiot like the rest of his house. "You can start in this one." He placed the quill down delicately so the ink remained inside the pen instead of spraying over his transfiguration homework, picked up his wand and summoned the bucket and mop from the cupboard across the hall. Hammel let out a small whimper as they sailed past him towards Draco, who tapped his wand against the bucket's side filling it with soapy water. "Report back in an hour," he said and turned back to his essay.

An hour passed and Draco had written a paragraph. A short paragraph. Make that two lines. Hammel was still polishing Snape's collection of jars containing pickled animal parts and he was finding the small boy's presence very disturbing; especially as the kid had decided it was appropriate to prattle endlessly about his first term at Hogwarts for the last forty five minutes.

"… and then in potions Brial melted his cauldron and his shrinking solution went everywhere, all over Amy's cat which was hiding under the table! It was brilliant!"

"Haven't you finished yet?" Draco snapped, ignoring Hammel's distressingly loose grasp of the basic rules of grammar.

"Almost," he replied cheerfully. "Just another nineteen to go." He seemed to have forgotten he had been terrified when he arrived for his detention and it was starting to wane. Nineteen rooms left to go; another nineteen hours worth of detention. Draco put down his quill hurriedly, coating his essay in ink and started towards the door. "Right, you've finished in here," he declared. "You start on the room directly to your right and I'll help you out with the rest."

"Wow thanks Draco."

He paused, deciding whether it was worth telling Hammel that only a select number of people had permission to call him Draco, one of whom was his mother, none of whom were in Hufflepuff. He sighed and stalked up to the library. It was much warmer up here and Draco was tempted to hide behind the shelves for a while but the impulse soon passed as he systematically consulted numerous books on magical cleaning methods before finally finding what he was looking for in a large maroon book with a winking, grinning picture of the only person he had ever hated more than Harry Potter upon the cover. It seemed Lockhart had actually signed this copy during his stay at Hogwarts and Draco scanned the dedication which began  _"To Irma, my greatest fan,"_  with wry amusement before memorising the charm he needed [which seemed ridiculously difficult; there was no way the smarmy git had ever been able to manage this spell] and uncharacteristically jogging back down the dungeons. He had always enjoyed trying out new spells, a process that was hampered quite considerably by the Malfoy distain which had to be inflicted on every occasion and so, concentrating hard, on his second attempt he managed to enchant numerous brushes and mops that would scour the rooms for him, whilst leaving no magical residue for Snape to detect. He watched them for a while, pleased at having carried out a difficult spell so quickly and efficiently and headed back to his essay, stopping briefly outside Hammel's room to check he was working but moving on before he could resume his running commentary.

Another hour passed; Draco set two smokers the task provided by Professor Vector: copying out twenty pages of vivid descriptions of the effect smoking had upon one's general health. While it was not general practice in Hogwarts to give rule breaker's lines, scanning the first page with growing disgust Draco reluctantly conceded that this was not an easy option. Having abandoned his essay long ago he checked on Hammel again; finding him standing on a chair trying to reach the ceiling, Draco contained a laugh and offered to wipe the highest cobwebs away for the child who rewarded him with a grin and some new interesting things he'd learned that week. It soon emerged that he'd never actually cleaned anything before, something Hammel seemed to find endlessly amusing and surprisingly Draco found he was almost rather enjoying himself which meant Hammel's question "why are you always so mean?" took him completely by surprise.

He considered lying,  _"no I'm not"_  or saying,  _"because I'm Head Boy,"_ or  _"because I'm a Malfoy,"_  but eventually opted for a rather wet "I don't know."

Julian Hammel regarded him thoughtfully. "No, neither do I." They cleaned in silence for a while before the Hufflepuff declared it was time to move on to the next room. "Oh, I've already done them," Draco answered, before he had thought about this properly.

"You have?" Hammel asked incredulously.

"Er, yes. I'm very quick, that stuff before was just a deception…" But the boy was already making for the next room along. He winced a little as the door opened on his enchanted cleaning equipment.

Julian turned around with a very un-Hufflepuff-like smirk on his face. "You're very quick?"

Draco resisted the urge to douse him in water. This was all Granger's fault. "Oh shut up."

Hermione's paper landed in her cornflakes. Ginny feigned irritation, removed it, paid the post owl for Hermione, who had not yet appeared and began to read the front page, absent-mindedly starting on her cereal again.

"G'morning," Ron grunted, sinking down opposite her.

"You sound cheerful… full of appreciation of the beautiful morning and the wonderful pleasures the day will bring," she commented mildly over the top of the Prophet.

"I'd appreciate it more if it came a bit later," her brother muttered, pouring orange juice rather badly into his goblet.

"Or if you went to bed a bit earlier," Ginny suggested but Ron seemed not to hear her. "And the only pleasure this day promises is double potions. Why oh why am I subjecting myself to this torture?"

"Because," Harry reminded him, removing the jug from his grasp and filling his own goblet rather more skilfully that Ron had, "you want to be an auror. Potions is, unfortunately, required."

Ron muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "bloody aurors have never been taught by bloody Snape," but very quietly because Hermione had just arrived.

"I missed the post again, didn't I?"

"Yes, I paid the owl for you though, so don't worry."

Ron helped himself to some toast over the other side of the table, dangling his robes perilously close to the bowls of jam. "Anything interesting happen in the news today?" he asked briefly before starting on the toast which he obviously viewed as generally more important.

"Somebody reckons they've spotted Lucius Malfoy again… but other than they seem to have run out of real news, or real news that they can actually report. An article about how some bloke believes he's proved that galleons are only ninety eight percent gold, apparently the goblins  _may_  be considering rebellion but the reporter isn't quite sure, and the Singing Sorceress has a sore throat and has cancelled the first week of her tour. "

"Thrilling stuff," said Ron disinterestedly. "Hermione you should stop paying for this rubbish… Where did they spot Malfoy?"

Harry snorted. "Someone spots Lucius Malfoy every week, he's hardly careless enough to be caught that often. At least half of the sightings have to be made up just so the Prophet has something to print."

Ginny finished her cornflakes quickly, folded the paper in half and handed it back to her brother's girlfriend. "It's all yours. I have to go start on my homework for tomorrow now in my free time as my evening's going to spent collecting unicorn hair or something equally straightforward."

"Actually, you're powdering asphodel root," Malfoy remarked from behind her. "Although, I don't suppose you care… Granger, a word."

Hermione rose and followed him over to the far side of the hall where they proceeded to have a fierce though extremely quiet debate.

"I thought you were leaving," Ron pointed out.

"I was," she told him, pretending to eat a croissant while really tearing it to bits. "This is more interesting, I want to see Hermione slap him again."

"That hasn't happened for years," Ron remarked gloomily.

"I think they have to be civil to each other now they're Head Boy and Girl," Harry pointed out, and then he grinning slyly across at Ron he added "after all, that's how my parents got together."

Ron was on his feet in an instant. "If that slimy git thinks he's coming anywhere near Hermione-"

Harry reached up a hand without taking his eyes off his breakfast and pulled his best friend back into his chair with a smile. "It was a joke Ron."

"Ha. Ha." A large spoonful of jam found its way towards Harry's face but he had been prepared and soon Ron too was covered in sticky strawberry preserve.

"Honestly," Ginny sighed. "How old are you two supposed to be?"

"IT'S RIDICULOUS!"

All three of them forgot about the jam and turned with the rest of the school to watch the two senior students. Malfoy was obviously angrier than anyone had ever seen him before; Hermione on the other hand seemed perfectly composed and said something in reply quietly enough that only he could hear it. A number of people started pulling out Extendable Ears [over the summer  _Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes_  had become a household name] but fortunately Malfoy was now shouting loud enough to be heard by even those who had not shelled out two galleons for Fred and George's over priced merchandise.

"I DON'T CARE! I'M NOT DOING IT ANY MORE AND YES YOU CAN TELL DUMBLEDORE I SAID THAT. I DON'T CARE!"

He stormed off, robes billowing behind him and Hermione returned to their table.

"Lovers tiff?" Harry asked politely, wiping jam from his face.

"He's angry because of his father's imprisonment?" Ginny guessed.

"No," Hermione countered thoughtfully. "He's angry because I asked him to take the detentions for this month-"

"Hermione!" Ginny gasped. "I thought we were friends… Snape was bad enough; I don't want to do detention with Malfoy."

"You won't have to," Harry pointed out. "By the sounds of it I'd say he just quit. Hermione?"

"Yes…" she paused. "Although, interestingly the reason he's quit is not that he couldn't stand doing the detentions."

"Oh?"

"No," she grinned. "It's because people have started to like him."

Ron choked on his breakfast. "What?"

"Apparently he can't step out of a room without being greeted by about five enthusiastic lower school children who insist on calling him Draco." She started laughing; the others exchanged glances. "Oh come on," she insisted. "Don't you find this funny? The thing that Draco Malfoy finds most annoying in the entire world is not muggle-borns, it's not people flinging potion ingredients at the back of his head, it's people trying to be his friends." She started giggling again. "You could have saved six years of thinking up ways to get back at him by calling him by his first name occasionally and laughing at his jokes."

"He's a nutter," Ron muttered. Hermione was still laughing uncontrollably. "You're both nutters," he corrected himself. He shook his head in disbelief and turned back to his breakfast. "Good luck with your detention Gin."

"Thanks…" she turned to Hermione. "Who'll be taking it now Malfoy's chickened out?"

"I haven't really thought about it yet." Hermione stopped laughing in order to consider the question. "It'll be me I suppose unless I can convince him being liked is not the end of the world."

"Do that tomorrow… give him time to cool off?" she finished hopefully.

"Nice try."

"But not quite good enough I suppose."

Hermione shook her head and Harry tugged at the corner of her sleeve. "Those people over there seem to be trying to get your attention." He pointed towards were her sixth year friends were beckoning.

Ginny grinned apologetically at them, mouthed  _"I've gotta go to my charms essay,"_ and turned back to Harry. "They keep asking me if I'm OK; it's getting rather annoying. There's only so many times I can say  _'yes I used to go out with Alex Maguire, yes he was a Slytherin and I suppose I should have seen it coming, yes that scene in the corridor was embarrassing but I'm over it,'_  without it becoming repetitive."

All three of them seemed to think this was a cue for them to start consoling her and Ginny sighed and got to her feet. "I have a charms essay to do."

The Daily Prophet was once again covered with pictures of his father, scowling through the black and white print. The giant headlines declared he had been sighted some where in the fens: a suggestion Draco found, more than usually, absurd. He discarded the paper on the floor; one of the house elves would undoubtedly pick it up later and tried to ignore Pansy Parkinson gushing about how wonderful it was that Lucius had escaped for what must be the twentieth time this year. Personally Draco couldn't have disagreed more; life at Malfoy Manor was so much more bearable with out his father's constant, ominous presence hovering over his shoulder. Narcissa Malfoy also seemed to be reacting well to her husband's absence despite the notable shame that had surrounded their family upon the wizarding world discovering Lucius was a Death Eater. She had closed the doors on the reporters, started redecorating her house and getting to know her son. It turned out that Narcissa had been a brilliant charms student, one of the few areas Draco was weak on and had spent a good quantity of the summer tutoring him.

"..and when I heard that poor man had been imprisoned I wrote to my father immediately saying…"

"Hi Draco!"

He smiled thinly as Amina Gadbsy [half muggle, Ravenclaw fourth year, in detention two days ago for using magic in the corridor] passed, waving shyly at him. Her friends collapsed into infuriating giggles and Pansy snapped "Draco?" as they moved on.

"Yes?" he asked wearily. "What have you to say Pansy? I assure you I am listening with the utmost enthusiasm."

She missed his sarcasm completely and continued talking with the rest of the Slytherin girls, apparently content.

"Hello Draco!"

Again, the passer-by was rewarded with a half smile.

Ah, there was Granger. He rose and two seconds later, with extremely disappointed looks upon their faces, so did Crabbe and Goyle. He motioned for them to sit down again and walked across the Great Hall towards the Head Girl.

"Draco, hi!" Colette Wing, Gryffindor fifth year, tugged at his sleeve as he passed. "Had a nice breakfast?"

"I… er… didn't eat anything."

She looked outraged. "You should. Here look, you can sit next to me." The other Gryffindor girls around her moved obligingly out of the way.

"No, look I have to speak to the Head Girl."

They all looked rather disappointed as he moved on, towards where Granger was sitting with Potter, Weasley and another girl with flaming red hair. That would be Weasley's sister, he remembered although he had no recollection of what her first name might be. She had detention tonight didn't she for… using magic in the corridors against that moron Maguire. Since the incident itself he had talked to Maguire and apparently she had been quite right to curse him, still, rules were not there to be broken.

"It's all yours," the girl declared. "I have to go start on my homework for tomorrow now in my free time as my evening's going to spent collecting unicorn hair or something equally straightforward."

"Actually you're powdering asphodel root," Draco informed her languidly. "Although, I don't suppose you care…Granger, a word."

She followed him, a query present in her eyes but after they had been stopped by Hammel who almost insisted Draco stop by the Hufflepuff common room after lessons for a game of Exploding Snap, it was replaced with one of understanding.

 _"Help me,"_  he whispered as soon as they were far enough away from anyone else.

"Why? You seem to have everything under control. I spoke to Professor Vector this morning in Arithmancy and every detention you've completed has been carried out satisfactorily. I think the teachers are enjoying the break."

"Not  _that_ …" he pointed back at Hammel. " _That._  What the hell is going on?"

Hermione shrugged. "Apparently you're a handsome, charismatic Head Boy who people are really warming to."

"No," he hissed vehemently. "People do not  _warm_  to me. I've gotten to the age of eighteen without anyone  _warming_  to me except Pansy Parkinson and her ignorant clique. I'm a Malfoy for heaven's sake. Worse, I'm  _Draco_  Malfoy. That's who I am, I don't want people to like me; I was happy before."

"So what you're saying is that you don't want to run the detentions any more?" she asked.

"I did not want to run them in the beginning, now I'm saying that I will not run them any more."

"Just because people like you?"

"Precisely," his voice was rising now. "I've worked very hard to gather this reputation and in one week you've effectively destroyed it all!"

"You did that yourself… It's not my fault that people have decided you're not really horrible after all, simply misunderstood."

"IT'S RIDICULOUS!" He was conscious that people had started to look at him and toned his voice down. "I'm not misunderstood and I don't want to take the detentions any more. I don't want to be Head Boy any more. I just want people to leave me alone!"

"That's not true," Hermione replied pragmatically. "I know you better than you think and I know you enjoy being Head Boy but if that's the way you want it would you like me to tell Dumbledore you've given up your position just because a few people wanted to be friendly? Can't you see how ridiculous  _that_ is?"

"I DON'T CARE!" he yelled, vaguely aware he was making a scene for the first time in his life. "I'M NOT DOING IT ANY MORE AND YES YOU CAN TELL DUMBLEDORE I SAID THAT. I. DON'T. CARE!"

Fuming with anger he swept from the Great Hall.

"Draco are you OK?" Natalie Richardson, Hufflepuff, asked as he stormed past her.

"Leave me alone," he retorted as rudely as he could manage. Now that was more like it. A couple of boys scampered past him, he informed them there was to be no running in the corridors and gave each one a detention.

By the time he had reached the common room seventeen new students had detention. Exhausted Draco flopped into his chair by the fireside. That was better. People did not like Draco Malfoy. He rested his head in his hands. No. People did not like Draco Malfoy.

It was nearing seven thirty and Hermione had not returned, which Ginny interpreted as a good sign and clambered out of the portrait hole, Harry and Ron's cries of "good luck!" following her. It was a long way from the Gryffindor common room to the dungeons and Ginny soon became very hot in her outdoor cloak, scarf and gloves that she had brought with her, guessing that the dungeons at eight o clock at night would not be pleasant. Sure enough by the time she reached the deepest depths the castle had to offer she was thankful for the extra warmth. She knocked gently and Hermione's voice called "come in Ginny."

She pushed open the door more cheerfully. "Thank Merlin it's you, I was wondering whether you'd managed to convince-"

"She did," someone else glowered from the back of the room. "So I'd appreciate it if you'd just sit silently for a moment Weasley, while Granger and I finish our conversation."

Malfoy swept out from behind his desk and he and Hermione talked briefly together while Ginny sat in her seat at the back of the class wishing she could shrink into the floor.

"Ginny's your only detainee today so it shouldn't be too bad."

"Wonderful. I am delighted."

Hermione rolled her eyes and moved to the door where she smiled ruefully, mouthed  _"sorry, good luck Gin,"_  and closed it behind her.

Yer, thanks Hermione, Ginny thought. Thanks a lot.

Malfoy removed a large, rather foul smelling sack from one of Snape's cupboards with a look of ultimate disgust and placed it in front of her, with a bowl, a knife, a chopping board and a pestle and mortar. "You have two hours in which to powder as much of this asphodel root as possible. If at the end of the two hours I am satisfied you have worked hard enough you will be released. Do you understand?"

Ginny tried not to look incredulous. "Do I understand that I have to powder asphodel roots?"

"Answer the question Weasley or you'll find yourself in another detention, acquiring unicorn hair perhaps."

"Yes,  _Draco_ , I understand."

"I will require your wand." She handed it over grudgingly. "And it's Malfoy to you,  _Weasley_ ," he said moving back to the desk.

She was annoyed and feeling more than usually flippant. "Fine, Draco, whatever you say."

"There will be no talking Weasley," he snapped.

"Why would I want to talk to you?" she challenged.

"Why indeed…You have two hours. You may begin."

This time Draco managed to finish his essay before looking up. Weasley's sister appeared to still be powdering her asphodel roots but he had been so absorbed in his essay that he had not noticed just how viciously she had been doing this. He watched her for a while, marvelling at the anger that seemed to be flaming beneath her skin. This one too had inherited the famous Weasley temper.

Eyes flickered to the hour glass next to him. It was half empty; another hour and a half to go and already he was bored. Draco gazed around, hoping inspiration would strike him, doodled on the corner of his essay and eventually picked up Virginia Weasley's wand and examined it. Old, yes definitely, almost an antique. Nice length though, and an attractive, if not particularly practical, colour.

Suddenly he knew what he was going to do. He glanced up quickly at the girl; she was not looking at him. A smile crept over his face. This was the first time he had been in contact with another wizard's wand which presented the perfect opportunity to practice certain spells to do with revealing another wizard's personality from said wand. He muttered an incantation as quietly as possible and was instantly bombarded with images. For a moment he was almost afraid of how little control he had over this particular spell but soon he grew accustomed to the frantic whirl. Annoyingly none of the people he had viewed grasping the wand so far appeared to be Virginia Weasley. He watched as generations performed the same spells, feeling himself almost age as each person passed away. He had been right. This wand was almost as old as Ollivanders itself. Then, suddenly, there she was. Eleven and using this wand for dreadful deeds under the direction of the thing in the book his father had given her. Thirteen and correctly transfiguring a teapot into a tortoise, bursting with pride. Fifteen and taking on a dozen Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries. Seventeen, screaming the Bat Bogey Curse at Alex Maguire, the boy who had broken her heart-

He dropped the wand with a cry. It clattered to the floor and rolled in a quiet circle, winking innocently up at him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ginny demanded furiously.

"I-" he looked at her, back at the wand, back at her, decided to pick up the wand. "I dropped your wand."

"No you didn't," she insisted, blazing once more. It was almost as if he could see her anger pulsing out from her and why not? He'd seen her life. He knew why she was angry. "You muttered something then you went into this weird trance thing, what the hell did you do to my wand."

"Nothing. Look have it back, it's fine. The wand is fine."

He placed the wand on the desk before him, fingers shaking slightly. So this was what legilimency must feel like. "Get back to powdering Gi- Weasley."

She seized it, and turned it over in her hands, obviously anxious that he had done something to it. He collapsed back into the chair. "Take it to one of the professors afterwards if you're so worried," he assured her. "I have done nothing to it."

She walked back to her chair, began powdering the roots then stopped and looked up at him.

"What did it do to you?"

Yes, it had certainly done something to him. Where he had been cold and aloof before he was now white and shaking. She didn't expect him to answer, or at least not answer her question, so his reply when it came surprised her merely by its presence.

"I… commanded it to give up its secrets," he explained slowly. "The spell was easier than I had anticipated or perhaps I was supposed to cast boundaries upon it which would have been more taxing but would have saved it from ripping open my consciousness. Either way it happened so quickly and so violently that I could not stop it after it had begun."

Ginny knew she should be feeling angry but Malfoy seemed so  _vulnerable_  almost, that anger seemed out of place.

"I saw…" he stopped, regained himself. "Lots of things I would rather not have seen." He paused again. "Who was the boy in the book?"

"That was Tom," she smiled wryly. "The best friend I ever had and the first person who tried to murder me. Well…" she laughed without humour, "murder is perhaps too strong. Tom merely wanted my life so that he could live; he was always too selfish for his own good-"

"My father gave you that book."

"Yes, I know."

"I am sorry for it."

She felt the sarcasm rise from within before it overwhelmed her. "Well that makes it so much better, thank you Draco, a weight has been lifted from me."

"If you don't want my apology I take it back."

"Please do. Keep your pity and your phoney apologies, I don't want them."

"Fine," he snarled back and returned to his essay. Still fuming she watched him pretending to write until he barked "you're supposed to be working Weasley."

"You almost called me Ginny before."

He started. Obviously he had not realised she had noticed, or hoped she had not. "It was a mistake," he answered shortly.

"Like hacking into my wand?"

He blanched then regained his calm. "No, that was deliberate. I wanted to see if I could do it and I could. I am now satisfied as to my abilities therefore, in that respect, the experiment was a success. Please do not question me about this any more."

"Please don't question you about breaking into my privacy and possibly damaging my wand permanently?" she asked incredulously. So Malfoy really was as arrogant as Ron had impressed upon her.

"The wand is fine," he snapped. "As for breaking into your privacy, I had not realised the spell would work in that particular way and it was not my intention to embarrass you by seeing into your life."

"Let me see into yours."

"What?"

"Give me your wand," Ginny explained. "You saw my life; it's only fair that I should see yours."

"Not a chance."

"But-"

"I said no."

They sank into silence again, Ginny crushing the roots vindictively into fine powder. "I'm sorry about what happened with Maguire," he said quietly.

"That's alright," she told him grimly. "It's really not the worst thing that's happened to me, as you probably know." She tried to laugh. "Besides I didn't even like the loser very much, not really."

"You're lying."

"So?" She could feel the tears ready to spill out. Merlin, no. Not here. Not in front of Malfoy. "It's better than crying about it, wouldn't you say?"

He seemed to consider what she had said very carefully, as if it had been something of the utmost importance. "Wait here."

"Where else is there for me to go?"

He looked like he might smile but then shook his head and repeated "wait here," before disappearing through the door. A few moments later he was back carrying a small porcelain tray. "I'm not willing to let you see everything, or rather everything magical I've ever done but here," he placed the bowl on the table. "I think this might be half way towards reparation."

He touched his wand to his forehead, removing silvery strands that she recognised as Pensieve. "I've always wanted to try this too," he told her as enthusiastically as if he were a first year Hufflepuff. "Borrowed this from Snape," he explained, pointing to the tray. "He'll probably be in here soon demanding to know what I'm doing with it but before then," he gestured at it, "would you like to see what I see?"

She smiled faintly. "Isn't that a bit melodramatic?"

"Perhaps." He inserted the tip of his wand into the basin and swirled the contents around. "Now, be aware that I have chosen what is in here; I would not have you take what you see on face value. For all you know my father could have read fairy stories to me every night; needless to say you shall see no memories of that particular event.

The surface of the Pensieve became clear. "After you," he said, her nose touched and she was falling.

It was late afternoon and the lamps around Malfoy Manor had just been lit. A small boy with blonde hair sat in an armchair that was far too big for him, staring fearfully at a large mahogany door. "That's me," Malfoy indicated unnecessarily. "This is my first meeting with father."

Ginny looked back at the boy who had to be at least seven if not eight. "Your first meeting?" she asked stupidly.

"Yes Virginia, my first meeting with my father," Malfoy repeated impatiently. "Well," he conceded, "second meeting. I suspect he was probably around while I was born although I do not remember it."

"My name is Ginny," she informed him, still watching the boy. "How would you like it if I called you Draconis?"

"That's not my name."

"Well, mine's not Virginia so I think we're equal. There have only been two people who have ever called me that."

"Tom?"

"Yes," she tried to make it a throw away line; as if it were amusing even to her. "Tom and Alex: The two Slytherins in my life…I would prefer it if you did not become one of them."

"Master Malfoy?" They turned as an old woman emerged from the doors. "Your father will see you now."

The boy rose from the chair; Draco and Ginny following a short distance behind. Lucius Malfoy lounged in his chair, face half hidden in shadow, undoubtedly for dramatic effect and a stance that Draco recognised as his own and resolved to change as soon as possible. "Do you know why you are here?" he asked softly, in a voice that one might have expected if python's could speak; low and silky: full of coiled menace.

"Yes sir," the boy replied quietly. "I… found something."

"Please," Lucius insisted, "call me father. We are, after all, related."

"Thank you father." He hesitated then spoke in a rush. "I'm very sorry, I didn't know they were there or I wouldn't have-"

But Lucius held up a hand for silence. "Of course you did not know. The question of you finding those poisons" Ginny gasped "is irrelevant. It has already happened and is, therefore, of no consequence. What matters now," he paused and lent forward, "is what you do with this knowledge you have gained."

The memory moved on. "I told him I'd do nothing," Draco informed her as the new scene materialised. "I thought that was what he wanted to hear but," he smiled wryly,  _"now_ … now I'm not so sure. I suspect he half hoped I'd try and turn him in; that's what he would have done. Our first meeting and already he was disappointed with me."

Ginny stared at him. "You found poison in your house when you were eight?"

"Seven, I believe," he corrected. "It was not to be the last time but the following times I neglected to inform my nurse."

They were outside; a sunny day outside the grandest house Ginny had ever seen. "This is your house."

"Yes." He was smiling. "This one's a happy memory."

Draco appeared from the house, slightly older than he had been in the last memory, clutching a broom.

"First broom ride?" Ginny asked but her companion shook his head.

"No; just a new broom… I enjoyed this day though. I thought you might like to see that my childhood wasn't all agony and horror; it seems so ridiculously clichéd.

The boy who had been Draco mounted the broom and soared into the air, his spectators rising with him. Ginny shrieked and made a momentary grab at Draco's arm, before composing herself and looking into the wicked glint in his eyes. "I suspected this might happen too. I've always wanted to walk on air, haven't you?"

She scowled. "Do you know everything?"

"No," he smiled. "But it's nice to know that you think so."

The boy hovered outside a large window, and waved at the couple standing behind it. Narcissa waved back gently and Lucius favoured him with a rare smile, if a very narrow one.

The ten-year-old on the broom beamed back and started performing a variety of aerobatic stunts for his parent's amusement. The memory faded again. "Some more you might recognise," Draco commented softly. "These are only short as you'll remember them yourself." Draco and Harry being fitted for their robes. Ron trying to hex him; his broken wand making the spell rebound on her brother. Draco laughing. The Inquisitional squad. Draco trying to study in his common room, setting a silencing spell around his desk and nodding politely when Pansy Parkinson spoke.

Receiving his seventh Hogwarts letter, letting the emerald badge fall onto his hands; suppressing a smile.

"Head Boy," his mother commented. Draco nodded. "Congratulations, I'm sure your father would be proud."

The Draco with the badge in his hands merely smiled but the one next to her murmured  _"right;"_  his customary frown back in place. Suddenly they were back in the dungeons, Draco examining Ginny's wand, looking up furtively to see if she was watching and casting the spell; hurling them into the wand's experiences again.

Clearly he had not expected this and, grabbing her hand, Draco tried to haul her out of the pensieve. Ginny caught a glimpse of his agonised face as the memory of Draco was overwhelmed with her past; she saw herself look up in horror, saw him gasp and drop the wand, visibly shuddering before Draco dropped her hand and seized her arm, tugging her firmly back into the present.

How the kiss began was a mystery to both of them; for neither seemed to have started it. The last thing he remembered clearly was desperately pulling Ginny with him out of the memory he had not placed in the Pensieve; then, suddenly, something much more immediate had presented itself, soft and tasting of strawberries. He had never kissed anyone before; had certainly never expected to be kissing Ginny Weasley. The part of his brain that was still able to function managed to think "this is nice" before it too was swept away into incoherency. She broke away first, biting at her lip slightly and he stared at her with a mix of confusion and disappointment.

"You kissed me," he pointed out astutely. "Well, I kissed you…"

She smiled slightly. "Yes… I noticed that too."

"Um…"

"Do you know just how wonderful it is to see you lost for words?"

He raised an eyebrow, regaining some part of his poise. "You have my pity if seeing me speechless is the highlight of your life."

The pensieve swirled innocently.

"Why?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I guess I didn't want you feeling sorry for yourself. Why did you?"

"Yes…What- I mean, why…" he stopped, considering. "I thought you didn't want me to be another Slytherin in your life."

"Not one who called me Virginia," she corrected, grinning.

"Well…" he tried to force his brain into some sort of working order. "Well, I suppose that's alright then."

"Mmm," she agreed, kissing him again. "I suppose it is, Draconis."

"Call me that again and we're through."

"Draconis, Draconis, Draco-"


End file.
